


promises, promises

by nikolantzov (sunstrucked)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Gen, Help, dark demigods set up, idk what else to tag this, pain just pain, percy's trauma, post blood of olympus, sally jackson's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstrucked/pseuds/nikolantzov
Summary: Percy Jackson's trauma, through the eyes of Sally Jackson.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	promises, promises

**Author's Note:**

> *the italicized parts are flashbacks from Sally's past, i'm sorry if it gets confusing

**_Sally Jackson never asks for this._ **

_Sally knew she was never the kind of girl who caught a lot of people's eyes. She was just another pretty girl in a crowd, a girl with a pretty face, and a pretty hair, a figure without any distinctive features pretty much anyone would forget._

_But, 17 years ago, young Sally Jackson locked eyes with a strikingly handsome young man, coming out of the morning mist on the shore of Montauk with a golden trident in his hand in all of his glory. He looked almost ethereal, like a figure manifesting out of a thin air, under the soft glow of the summer sunrise, he beamed._

_Never once did Sally Jackson dreamed of catching the eyes of such a beautiful yet brooding god._

_To say that she was smitten was an understatement._

_He was, in every sense of the word, tender. Even under his strong and bulky frame, there was something soft and calming about his presence, like an ebbing body of water. He held her in a way that made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. He talked to her like she was a goddess, a royalty, his deep voice whispering praises and sweet nothings. His skin felt rough and calloused, but warm and inviting. Sally remembered the smell of sea salt and citrus lingering in his figure, intoxicating._

* * *

The figure standing on the door of her apartment didn’t seem real. It was like an apparition, a figment of her imagination. Sally didn’t trust herself to move, nor speak. She was afraid that the world would move along, bringing him further away from her. The moment felt fragile and delicate, as if one wrong move could tear it up apart and break it away. 

But then he stepped in, closer and closer.

She felt a lump choking her airway as she took a futile gasp of air.

* * *

_Everything happened so fast._

* * *

The next thing she knew he was shaking in her arms, a mess of tears and guilt buried on the crook of her neck. She draped her arms upon his boney back, she felt his overwhelming warmth, his rapid thudding heartbeat, his trembling presence. For a moment, he was there,all real and warm, and hers again. 

For the first time in months, Sally could finally breathe again without her ribs tightening with every surge of air. 

He muttered a string of apologies like a broken record, beating himself up for harms he never meant to do, for leaving her behind, for causing her so much pain and misery. He begged forgiveness for mistakes that were never his to begin with. 

“I’m sorry, mom.”

She cupped his face in her hands, his cheekbones felt sharp with the absence of flesh below the skin. She looked into those brooding eyes, eyes that she had spent her whole life looking into , eyes that had never failed to provide her a sense of comfort, eyes that she had deemed her home and salvation, eyes that she now no longer recognized. She was searching for a hint of light, for something, _anything,_ but it was no longer there. No trace of hope in his empty stare. 

* * *

_Basking in darkness, Sally found herself slumped on the floor of her bathroom, her whole body trembling. She couldn’t even bring her hands to wipe the tears of her face. She couldn’t believe herself._

_What have I done?_

_Sally kept asking herself. She had been so careful all summer. She had been so careful her whole life. Out of all the time, she couldn’t possibly have picked a worse moment to slip out. She had it all planned out before her, after years and years of saving, struggling to fend for herself after her uncle passed away, she finally gathered enough dimes and was in a place good enough to come back to school to retrace her steps towards her dream of becoming a writer. All of that. Gone. Just like that._

_He offered her a home, a sanctuary, a palace. He promised her the life of a queen, a life where she would never have to worry about another day’s work, a life where she would be praised and loved, a life that she had dreamed of when she was little._

_But she knew better. If all those years of taking care of herself, scraping dimes out of any small jobs that she could possibly do had taught her anything, it was that she should never rely on others for the sake of herself. She politely refused, assuring him that she would be okay. She would try to be okay. She tried so hard to convince_ _herself she would be okay._

_The next morning, he left._

* * *

He came back.

Sally kept repeating that phrase to herself. Giving herself a check of reality. Reminding herself that her son, finally, was home. But, she didn’t know if she could fully believe that. Because now, sitting across from him at the dinner table, Sally felt like she barely knew him.

He gripped his spoon firmly to stop his hands from shaking because he knew it would only make her worry. But the mashed potatoes and the beef brisket sat untouched in his plates. 

“Percy,” she whispered.

Her voice was soft and tender against the maddening silence, but it was enough to snap him out of his own mind with a violent jerk. His look shot up, straight forward, eyes alert and ready.

Sally flinched back. She really wished she hadn’t.

The look of shock in his face quickly washed over and turned into a sheer horror, realizing he had just scared his mother over a whisper of his name. 

“I-I’m sorry, mom.”

Another apology. 

“Sweetie, are you okay?” Sally reached out her hand, trying to grasp a touch of his, but as soon as their skin came in contact, he pulled away abruptly. Sally put her hand down in defeat, looking up instead.

He gave her a nod, a brief hesitant nod. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a long painful breath.

Sally didn’t know how to act. She didn’t know what questions to ask or what assistance to offer. She felt so helpless, she hated this.

“I-” he started, getting up from his seat, “I’m not hungry.”

Sally stared in silence.

 _“_ I’m sorry, mom.”

* * *

_There was no time for apology or regrets._

_Sally began to form up a new plan. If she were going to do it, she promised herself she would do it right. She got an interview for a new job so she could stop waitressing at an irish pub down by the town. Hanging around a pub was probably not the wisest thing for a pregnant woman to do. Her new job at the candy shop couldn’t have been any better. It paid well, better than the previous gig, and the customers didn’t flail their hands around hoping to get a grope of her ass._

_With the extra income she got, and the money that was supposed to go to her school funds, Sally put down a security deposit and a first month of rent on a new apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was the best her money could afford in a good school district._

_Summer ended with Sally settling into her new rented apartment. She moved in with a single bag, practically everything she owned could be packed in one bag, a blue duffel that she now keeps in a box under her bed._

_Then began the long restless night._

* * *

There was screaming. Loud, agonizing, guttural scream crawling on the walls of her home. She heard him crying for help. She heard him begging for mercy. She heard him pleading for her, for his friends, for the _gods_. Even through a tight sealed door his laboured breathing could be heard with every heaving second. His muffled cry. His silent curses. 

She spent those nights bruising her knuckles against the board of his door begging him to let her help. She spent those nights camped out outside of his door worrying herself to exhaustion. She spent those nights praying to deities she knew full well won’t even bother listening. 

“Perseus, please, let me come in.”

Her voice laced with distress and concern. She could hear him sobbing inside, his breath shaky and ragged, he was wide awake. But he never once answered her call. 

This was the worst part. Sally knew that the boy who walked into her arms that morning was not the same person who walked away from them a year ago. Now, as the day went by, he drifted further and further away from her, right before her eyes. His mind was slipping, to somewhere darker than the hell that he had walked on.

A couple of nights into the month, he started sleeping with his lights on.

For a while, the nightmares stopped.

* * *

_There was something about Sally and nightmares. Even before this, Sally always found drifting to sleep one of the hardest things she ever had to do. When the pregnancy started, it got worse._

_Sally would toss and turn in her bed for hours trying to lull herself to sleep -- she tried everything; soothing music, sleeping tea, even counting sheep and all sorts of other animals in her head. But, it was like her mind refused to rest. Even if she managed to fall asleep, a horrible nightmare never seemed to fail to shake her back to consciousness._

_She mostly dreamt of the sea, but not the nice and peaceful one like the one in Montauk, sometimes Sally dreamt of a sea raging with anger, wild waves and hurricanes, dark waters infested with creatures she never even heard of, other times Sally was underwater, standing in the middle of ruins, a broken trident laying on her feet._

_Sally woke up with cold sweat running down her back, her breath coming in a short and rapid surge of air, she was scared, though she wasn’t sure why._

_Though those nights were nothing compared to the mornings._

* * *

In the mornings, he refused to meet her eyes. He threw a bitter apologetic smile as he walked into the kitchen as silently as possible. He trudged the hallway like he was scouting a hostile territory. His eyes were bloodshot and alert. His fingers fidgeting against the empty pockets of his pants.

Sally had learned the hard way to not sneak up on him or lay a hand against his skin without permission. She had learned the hard way to not raise her voice or make sudden movement. She had learned the hard way to not ask questions about what happened. She had learned the hard way to never mention the names of his lost comrades that he called for in his sleep.

Sally just wished that he would talk. About anything. Just like he used to. 

Three long months later _she_ came to visit. 

* * *

_The first three months had been the hardest. Most days Sally had to go to work with messy rumpled uniforms from spending the morning crouching by the toilet bowl as she emptied her stomach into it. It was almost like someone was intentionally gripping her stomach tight, forcing a wave of pain and nausea down her spines and up her throat. But, Sally couldn’t afford to give in. Every morning Sally had to deal with horrible morning sickness unlike any other, and every morning, Sally picked herself off the floor, gathered every little bit of strength she had, and went on with her day._

* * *

_Her_ presence was like coming up for fresh air. Percy had been drowning for so long, fighting against the raging current of his past trauma to absolutely no avail. But when Annabeth Chase came knocking on the door of their house, a bouquet of fresh chrysanthemums in her hand, it was like the son of Poseidon was finally saved from the churning water.

Sally could finally see thatthose familiar flicker of hope in his eyes.

He was happy. Truly happy. He was talking, and telling stories, and coming up with jokes. He sat cross-legged on the living room couch, Annabeth resting her head on his lap as he stroked her hair gently. 

Then it was sometime past midnight when Sally caught her leaving in such hurry. She looked like she had been through a heated fight with a monster or some sort. Her hair was a tangly mess dropping down past her shoulder. She must’ve buttoned her blouse hastily that she missed a couple of holes. She had both of her shoes clutched in her arms, holding them close to her chest. Her eyes were puffy and teary. Her cheeks tinted with burning crimson.

Sally didn’t ask. She didn’t dare to. She offered Annabeth a glass of water that she had gotten out of bed to get. The girl took it with her trembling hands. She downed the whole glass like she had been starved off water for days. 

“Could you-,” her voice was croaky and dry, it came out in a low whisper, “could you please make sure he takes care of himself?”

It was the last time Sally ever saw her.

No one knows what went down that night behind Percy’s closed door.

* * *

_But things did get better._

* * *

Things never really got better. The nightmares came back. It got so bad to the point where Sally often found him wandering the house in the middle of the night because he was afraid to go to bed. He was like a ghost. Almost lifeless and empty. Sometimes he sat for hours in front of the tv, struggling to keep his eyes open. There was nothing Sally could do except to watch her son slowly fade away to this person she no longer recognized. 

It was the cruelest form of torture she had ever endured.

One night she heard a soft thud on her bedroom door. A weak knock.

“Mom,” he cried.

Sally opened her door to find him struggling to stand up right, his hands clutching on a blanket. He looked so exhausted. His eyes were sunken and dark. His cheeks hollow and pale. His touch was cold and dry.

“I’m tired mom,” he sobbed as he reached out to hold her, “I’m so tired.”

That night he slept in her arms. She stroked his hair, whispering to him that everything was gonna be okay, he was going to be alright. She was lying. She didn't know what else to say.

* * *

_The monthly visit to the doctor was the one thing Sally had to look forward to. By every visit, Sally was reminded that she wasn’t in this alone. The first time Sally heard the heartbeat of the baby, she felt warmth enveloping her, as if someone were giving her a hug._

_A month later she got her first sonogram, and there it was, a little tiny blob floating around inside her. At that moment it dawned on her, how much this little tiny blob meant to her. It put things into perspective about how much of her she would sacrifice for the sake of her baby; every little bit._

_Sally kept the picture on her bedside drawer, she looked at it every night before bed. The nightmares finally came to a stop._

* * *

The nightmares never really come to a stop.

* * *

_Sally was painting the walls of her son's nursery when she first felt a kick on her abdomen. At first she thought it was the bands of her pants snapping off because it seemed to be happening quite a lot, but then, she felt again. A soft thud against the wall of her uterus._

_“Hey there, lil cupcake,” she said, stepping off the step ladder she was standing on, “someone’s excited for his nursery.”_

_Another kick._

_A soft chuckle made its way past Sally’s lips, she stared at the half painted blue wall for a while, “I know, I know, I’m excited too.”_

* * *

Sally couldn’t possibly lie to herself. When she heard a knock on the door on her door one morning, she was worried. 

It was Percy’s friends. She recognized the small boy in the black aviator jacket. It was the boy who climbed up her fire escape on Percy’s birthday years ago. The tall blonde one she had never seen before. But he threw a smile so warm at her it felt like she had known him for years.

It was hard to believe that this boy had gone through the same thing as Percy. 

Sally kept her distance. She served them a plate of peanut and butter sandwiches and left them alone.

But even with all the distance between the living room and the kitchen, their voice still made their way to Sally’s ears. She didn't mean to eavesdrop but her curiosity got the better of her.

“What about Leo?”

Was one of the things she caught.

“Indiana,” one of the boys answered.

“What about Annie?”

“No,” this time it was Percy’s voice, “I'm not bringing her into this.”

Sally finally got it. He was gonna leave her. Again.

* * *

_Sally was cooking dinner when she felt her stomach contracting in a way that was enough to make her bend over the kitchen counter in pain. She remembered the sound of metal bowl clattering against the floor and pieces of carrots and potatoes scattered around her feet, she remembered her heartbeat rushing out of the cavity of her ribs, she remembered her hands trembling as she tried so hard to grasp the edge of the sick for support, she remembered the shock, the pain and then, the silence. The only audible sound to Sally’s ear was her labored breathing and the tick and tocks of the wall clock and everything else seemed to be drawn out._

_“Alright,” she whispered to herself after gathering enough strength, “alright.”_

_ She tried to adjust her breathing, closing her eyes, picturing the serene morning scene of a beach; the sound of waves, the feeling of water against her feet, the soft warmth of sunlight against her face. It calmed her down. _

_ “Alright, little cupcake,” she placed one hand on her bump, “it’s you and me now, we can do this, because what are we?” _

_ Silence. _

_ “We’re a team.” _ _  
_

* * *

They're a team. Or at least they used to be.

That night Sally came knocking on her son’s door and she found him gathering supplies on his bed, shoving them forcefully to the familiar blue duffel bag. The fire escape window was wide open, inviting him to climb out. He didn’t even notice her. Seeing him like this was worse than those months of waiting for him to come home. 

When he realized that she was standing on the doorway, his shoulder tensed up, and he became stiff. Sally hated that. She hated that Percy could no longer relax around her. She hated that he could no longer be her kid.

She didn’t stop him from leaving. She didn’t even make him promise to come back. She didn’t want to hold him to a word he couldn’t possibly keep. 

“Perseus,” she whispered, “just know that you will always have a home here, with me.”

He pulled her into a hug. And he made a string of promises. He promised her a palace, a throne. He promised her the life of a queen, a life where she would never have to worry about another day’s work, a life where she would be praised and loved.

That night Sally dreamed of the sea. The raging water and the monsters. The ruins of a palace and the broken trident. In the middle of all that she caught a glimpse of her son, sitting on the throne of his father.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry


End file.
